


Honour

by Kit_SummerIsle



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gladiators, M/M, Pre-War, Sticky, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 19:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron is the star of the arena in Kaon... but he has to train like the eager beginners flocking to be gladiators. Sometimes the training bouts give surprises instead of the predictable results...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honour

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Lj tf-rare-pairing](http://tf-rare-pairing.livejournal.com/) fanwork-a-thon challenge.
> 
> The verse is mostly G1, with the pre-war gladiator backgrounds for the main characters; I only changed that they are not slaves, they are gladiators in their own will and paid for it like it is a job of sorts. It is a subculture of Cybertronian society and therefore they have a sort of a honour code among them that is not enforced (like in the slave kind of gladiatorial verses), but voluntary. Megatron is already a star gladiator, when the twins start their career...
> 
> personal note: I'm glad I could write _anything_ , even if it is not such a great fic. I had such a bad bout of writing these past months...

Title: Honour  
Universe/Continuity: G1  
Rating: M  
Warnings: offscreen interface, canon typical violence  
Characters: Megatron, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker  
Pairing: Megatron/Sideswipe  
Prompt: “I don't care to explain."  
Notes: pre-war G1

 

It took only a little misstep. He got careless, something he’s never done in a real fight, but this was only an everyorn training and he was the star of the arena, the Terror of Kaon, the best damn gladiator Cybertron produced… and he was also overconfident and underestimating the tenacity and the hunger for success of the newcomers, the younger, smaller, but ferocious mechs who might have looked like silly fops playing gladiators, but who fought viciously and seamlessly as one and their perfect synch overcome him for exactly one crucial nanoklik. 

It was more than enough for the great frame to thump heavily into arena floor, to fall among the metallic shavings and though he still fought and could grab the more ferocious one, tearing into the garishly gold plating… but the other one, the sly and more insidious one used his mistake mercilessly and Megatron’s arm was bent in ways it emphatically did not bend and his throat was in danger of being crushed by a relentless red knee-joint - and he was forced to let the golden plating go and growl “Yield…” into the shocked silence of the training ring.

The red frame rose lithely, flaring vents belying his effortless grace as he let the elder gladiator’s frame go, acknowledging his defeat like it was nothing… but it wasn’t nothing, they both knew, the star of the arena has never been beaten even in a training bout and the new mechs, these youngsters accomplished what none could before. At a cost of one of them though – the yellow one was sprawled where Megatron tossed him, limbs in unnatural angles, his energon pulsing out from large tears… and the red one was by his side at once, gathering him up franticly to take to the arena’s medics…

…Megatron caught a red shoulder as it passed him, unused to be treated like he wasn’t there and therefore annoyed by this ignorance and the defeat itself. His servo was shook off with a threatening growl that sounded like it came from both vocalizers at once and the gray gladiator was shocked by the audacity of the youth. The red mech stalked out with his twin brother in his arms like he cared nothing for defeating the undefeated champion of the arena, not even glancing at the collected gladiators who already started to whisper among themselves, seeing the new, rising stars…

“You could have taken him there, you know?”

“Keep working, medic!”

Sideswipe snarled at the smaller mech, his words hardly even registering as he stared at the monitors, willing them to show that Sunstreaker was all right. His twin was the more dangerous of them and they played on this a number of times, making their opponents underestimate himself – but never before with such serious consequences to Sunstreaker, nearly deactivated before Sideswipe could force Megatron to yield. Black helm snapped up as the words registered in his processor.

“What?”

“You won.” The medic spelled out “The winner’s right to take the looser. Megatron has never been beaten. Connect the dots for yourself.”

“The winner can… what?”

Suddenly the stakes of the arena fights have just gone way up in Sideswipe’s processor. So far they fought for glory and credits and when they lost only those were what they had to part from. But… interface? They never interfaced with anyone before but the other. They never had the urge to frag somemech for whatever reason and noone, absolutely noone had a shot at their valve but each other. 

“He will live.” The medic snapped the last new, bare plate into its place, disconnected the life-support leads and turned to the next patient. “He will online in three joors, during which you are not allowed to stay here.”

Sideswipe wanted to protest, to stay like they’d always done when the other lay in medical recharge… but this was a new place with new rules and he didn’t want to push them before he learned them. With a scowl towards the medic, who ignored it blithely, he stalked out of the med-bay and towards the quarters they were given. On the way he ignored the glances, the congratulations, the servos on his shoulders and the lewd suggestion he wasn’t sure what to make of yet and was glad when he finally reached the blasted rooms. He felt… insecure without Sunstreaker’s menacing/supporting presence by his side, without his field meshing into his and calm him by simply being there.

But behind the door, instead of the safety of the rooms another surprise awaited him, the last so far in the row of others, the expected ones of a new place. Dropping into a ready stance Sideswipe growled as the storm-grey plating registered in his processor… but Megatron made no move to attack. His expression was that of utter distaste and smoldering rage, his servos… his talons tightened into fists, creaking almost with the force exerted on the joints, his frame was the definition of tension itself – but he didn’t attack. 

They stared at each other like caged beasts that they truly were, neither backing off, neither giving an inch from the standoff… but slowly, though nothing really signaled it outwardly, Sideswipe teeked the other’s field less like a fury about to be unleashed and more like an embarrassed rage dying into smoldering ashes. He didn’t dare to relax yet though, not a single cable twanged as he faced down an enemy now even more dangerous than he was on the arena grounds. He had only the recent victory on his side, to keep the other gladiator in check, part of an elaborate honour system he knew not the rules of yet, and he dared not to assume either.

A growl shook him and the room, so deep it might have come from the center of Cybertron itself and Megatron dropped to one knee, visibly forcing his limbs to obey him and take the pose of the lesser, one he’d never before had to practice and which he was spared in the public field of the training grounds… he hated and thanked the red mech for that small kindness the other wasn’t even aware of, to be spared of the ridicule of his many enemies who probably celebrated his first defeat… 

“I don’t…”

Sideswipe didn’t know how to finish his sentence, didn’t know what he was going to say, what wouldn’t insult mortally this gladiator in front of him, this champion they managed to defeat… he knew the weight of what they’d done or at least guessed it; a champion was a champion even in the small, provincial arena they’ve come from and defeating one has always been a monumental event. 

But he didn’t know the details, they’ve arrived barely orns ago and certainly didn’t expect himself to be in a position where he might… should? Have to? He wasn’t sure… frag the champion of Kaon into his berth, especially the mech being half again his size and might be – _undefeated, yeah, remember that_ \- untouched. He might even insult him mortally if he decided not to interface him… or he might do that by fragging him. He just didn’t know.

“ _I_ don't care to explain."

The growl snapped him out of his musings and his battle-ready stance as well – the other gladiator was on his knees and apparently quite aware of his dilemma if his annoyed-sneering field was anything to go by. Waiting for him to decide, to do something too and angrier by the klik. Sideswipe forcefully stopped thinking the way he did in the arena – _only missing his other half terribly from his side as he did so_ – and let his instincts take over and direct his lust into something useful for once.

As it happened, Megatron was a _terrible_ frag, as he might have thought the mech being as unwilling and unused to being on the receiving end; and as much as Sideswipe was unsure in his position and being the top… but the mech was – _thank Primus_ – not sealed, not tearing him apart when penetrated and enduring the interface with a growling compliance that frankly gave Sideswipe creeps. While it wasn’t by any means a satisfactory interface and Sideswipe was never so glad for one to end, it did clear up a few things in his processor.

One, the most important one really, being never to lose to the grey gladiator of course.  



End file.
